Monday, May 03, 2010
there is a weight and a radiant fire on my left hand. i look at it constantly, marveling at the twinkle of colors that flash with the slightest movement. at times, i remove the fire and lay it down on the nearest surface. i wonder and i doubt if i am truly ready for the joys and the burdens of its symbol. i look at it laying on the desk or the nightstand or my skirted knee and i quickly reach out for its weight and slip it back on.
it is so small and so much larger than me. i do not yet understand who i am while wearing . i confess i do not think i am strong enough for the task of constant compromise and adaptation, being leashed and unleashed all at once. my fears seek to consume me.
but he loves me.
fiercely, truly, exceptionally. even when i am afraid.
and my heart, long, long before a weight ever graced my left hand, decided he was worth the risk.
the risk of losing my small self utterly and completely.
the risk of discovering new purpose in caring for another.
the risk of casting off fear to, instead,
be consumed by the white fire of love.